


i liked that

by dodgefred



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, DWSA - Freeform, DWSAverse, Deaf West Spring Awakening - Freeform, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i guess their relationship is TECHNICALLY up to interpretation but, ottorg is real thanks, theyre gay harold, yes they are deaf here thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodgefred/pseuds/dodgefred
Summary: Of course they mattered to him- at least, they were supposed to. Everyone’s tattoos mattered to them, it seemed, but Georg’s words were the stupidest ones anyone could ever have.Or, Georg is jealous of the whole world and complains for a good thousand words.
Relationships: Hanschen Rilow/Ernst Robel, Melchior Gabor/Moritz Stiefel, Otto Lammermeier/Georg Zirschnitz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	i liked that

“I liked that.”

Georg’s tattoo consisted of the three most generic set of words he could imagine. Where his friends got clues as to who their soulmates would be with their tattoos — like Hanschen’s, “Excuse me, that’s my book,” could indicate his soulmate was a reader — Georg’s was so...stupid. _Anyone_ could say the words which were etched on Georg’s wrist, and he would never know if they were _The One_ or not because he probably wouldn’t even realize _because the words were so awfully, horribly, ridiculously insignificantly stupid._ They genuinely didn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things.

Of course they _mattered_ to him- at least, they were supposed to. Everyone’s tattoos mattered to them, it seemed, but Georg’s words were the stupidest ones anyone could ever have. Even that kid Ernst Robel had something to work off of- “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine,” and his was almost as simple as Georg’s.

He was nearly fifteen now. He knew that many people didn’t find their soulmates until they were far older, but he was growing impatient. Melchior and Moritz had already found soulmates in each other (although platonically so, according to Melchior, who didn’t believe in the whole soulmate system except for when it directly benefited him) when they were just children, and Melchior refused to ever shut up about it.

“We’ve been soulmates our whole lives.” Melchior would constantly brag about it. “As soon as he said ‘Do you want to play pirates with me?’ I knew I had found my best friend for life, and he felt the same way when I said-...”

Georg was usually an expert at tuning him out. But it was a Friday and he had pent up feelings from another long week, during which he could hardly touch his piano due to his bucketfuls of homework, so his main source of stress-relief was completely gone.

‘We get it, you have a soulmate, shut up,’ was what Georg wanted to say. Instead, though, he kept his bespectacled eyes on the empty chalkboard and his hands folded in his lap. His foot tapped in frustration, but his foot always tapped anyway so no one really noticed. He normally didn’t allow Melchior’s words get to him, but that day they stirred some kind of angry pit within his stomach.

Melchior was just about to enter his fifth whole minute of non-stop talking about Moritz to anyone who would listen and Georg was just about to turn around and tell him to shut up when Ernst Robel walked over to Hanschen’s desk and tapped on it.

“Excuse me, that’s my book.”

Georg almost fell out of his seat. The entire class — or at least everyone who knew about Hanschen’s tattoo — fell silent. Even Melchior shut his fat mouth for two seconds. The room was mostly silent as they waited for Hanschen’s response, though it must have been a full minute of tension before Hanschen replied with a panicked, “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

Georg didn’t care to hear the rest of the affair. Hanschen and Ernst were officially the third and fourth boys in their graduating year to find their soulmates. He tried not to be envious of his friend- Hanschen deserved this. He deserved to be able to have someone, especially considering his past relationships ending somewhat rocky. That didn’t stop the jealous feeling in Georg’s stomach from causing a ruckus, though. Suddenly his head hurt and his stomach hurt and he couldn’t stop shaking his foot to the point where he was basically stomping on the ground.

How was it fair that Hanschen found his soulmate first? Of course Hanschen deserved some good in his romantic life, and he definitely deserved to not sit in waiting for his whole damn life, but Georg couldn’t help himself from feeling the green monster from sneaking up on him. Hanschen got _everything_ , and Georg couldn’t stand it. Hanschen got boys to like him, Hanschen got good grades, Hanschen got parents who didn’t hate him. As close friends as the two were, Georg hated how good Hanschen had it and how little regard to how good it actually was. Sure, a boyfriend or two died or took advantage of him or something, but at least Hanschen wasn’t hated by everyone who ever spoke to him.

“Georg, are you alright?” Melchior stopped talking about Moritz for once in his stupid fucking life.

Georg didn’t respond, and instead raised his hand to get the teacher's attention. “May I go to the nurse? My stomach hurts.”

...

  
  


Sitting in the dark in the nurse’s office feeling awful wasn’t any better than sitting in a crowded classroom feeling awful, but at least Georg didn’t have to pretend to be happy in front of Hanschen any longer.

After checking his phone, there were a few texts from the boy in question. Mostly texts in the vein of ‘did you see that??oh my god,’ but then a ‘oh fuck wait are you okay,’ followed by a ‘shit class is starting talk later.’ Georg tucked it back into his pocket. He took a deep breath, taking in the cold, sterile smell of the school nurse’s office.

Georg needed to calm down. His parents wouldn’t pick him up, because if he missed any school he wouldn’t be allowed to attend piano lessons, they had said. And Georg loved the piano. He _needed_ the piano. It was a genuine escape for him. And considering the circumstances, Georg so desperately wished his piano was here in front of him so that he could close his eyes and fall into the world of his music: his favorite classical pieces, and some little ditties he had written himself. Music mattered to Georg, and it was honestly the only reason as to why he hadn’t genuinely considered flinging himself into the sun with this whole soulmate nonsense. And also because that was scientifically impossible, but whatever.

Besides, Georg had a recital that evening. He couldn’t fling himself into the sun because he absolutely could not miss it. His parents would surely make him if he left school early. So Georg just needed to get through — he glanced at the clock on his phone — three more hours of school. Great.

Georg decided to bide his time just sitting in the nurse’s office by thinking of his upcoming recital. His parents wouldn’t be there, of course, but hopefully his friends would be in attendance, even if he was feeling sort of jealous of all of them at the moment. He knew at least Hanschen would come, and he would surely drag his new soulmate with him. Moritz had said that he would try to come, but he seemed hesitant about it. He said his parents didn’t really like him out of the house on a school night. Still, Melchior was very good at sneaking him out and Melchior seemed like a cultured enough person to pretend to enjoy listening to two hours worth of teenagers playing piano. Georg wasn’t as close with the girls, but had invited them all anyway. He supposed Wendla might want to come, because she always enjoyed supporting her friends.

He imagined he’d get up on the stage with his sheet music in hand and the biggest grin, sit atop the bench, shut his eyes, and play. He’d play away all of his worries and jealousies and what-ifs and he’d come out in the end with a feeling of pride at all of the applause he’d receive at the end of it.

Georg thought of all of his potential guests and the desired progression of events with a smile. Even if his mother and father didn’t care about his “noise,” he knew his friends would. He had been working on the piece he was going to be performing for about a year. It needed to matter to someone, even if that someone wasn’t any of the adults in his life.

…

The nurse threw him out of her office. Literally threw.

“You’re smiling. You don’t have a headache. Get back to class.”

Clearly some nurses don’t know a thing about laughter being the best medicine. God.

Despite this minor disturbance to his thoughts, though, Georg returned to class with his mind on the prize. The recital, that is. For the rest of the day, the tune of his song floated through his mind and he allowed his fingers to silently dance across his desk as if he was actually touching the keys on the piano. He walked to the rhythm of the song, and it felt as if he were dancing along to it with each step. Georg also didn’t let anyone talk to him and ruin his vibe. He didn’t have on headphones, but he acted like he did. Music played in his mind even without them, and he enjoyed living in this little musical world. It wasn’t like anyone wanted to talk to him, anyway. Most people in his classes typically ignored him. Georg was usually the one who got into everyone’s business, so his classmates were probably glad they didn’t have to deal with him that day.

Only after school, when Georg was gathering his things from his locker, did Hanschen appear beside him with wide eyes. He was probably ready to blab on and on about his soulmate, Georg thought. Instead, though, what came out of his mouth was a concerned, “Are you alright?”

Georg shrugged one shoulder and shut his locker. “Yeah, why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ You looked like you were going to cry back in Wedekind’s class. Then you came back and you acted all spacey for the rest of the day. Hey- you didn’t take any of Ilse’s brownies, right…?”

“No way,” Georg said with a shake of his head. “But I totally should’ve. Nah-, I’ve just been in a whole performance headspace, you know? Getting prepared for tonight.”

Hanschen’s head tilted to the side and he asked, “What’s tonight?”

“My recital, remember?” Georg prompted, finally turning to look him in the eyes. “You’re coming, right?”

“Your…- Oh, shit, Georg,” Hanschen muttered as he connected the dots. “I forgot all about that, honestly! I- Ernst and I are going on a date. Our first as soulmates, you know? We’re going to that one super fancy restaurant just for soulmates, and I- God, Georg, I’m so sorry-”

Georg’s heart sank. That marks two people off his expected guest list.

“Oh, okay,” Georg said, cutting Hanschen off. “There’s always next year.”

Georg didn’t want to finish the conversation, so he pretended to receive a text from his mother. He shook his head and glanced back up to Hanschen.

“Sorry, Hans. Mom says It’s my turn to do the dishes, and I want to get it done before tonight. I’ll talk to you later.”

With that, Georg slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned towards the nearest staircase. It was the wrong one — the one that brought him to the exit of the school that was the opposite direction to where he needed to be to get home — but the sooner he didn’t have to face anyone, the better.

During the hours between the end of the school day and his recital, Georg received about eight excuse texts from his other friends — that was five more than he was expecting to come, anyway — as to why they couldn’t come to his recital but they hoped he did a good job. Some were grounded, some had work, some had family movie nights. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. First, Georg had to watch his best friend, _who always got everything he wanted,_ find his soulmate, and then Georg found out no one he loved would be coming to his recital. Everything was just...fantastic.

Georg was upset as he straightened his bow tie in the mirror, he was upset on the walk to the venue, and he was upset during his soundcheck. At least three of his teacher’s other students asked if he was okay, because he apparently looked like he wanted to beat someone up. Instead of discussing his feelings, he tucked them away and tried to find his way back to his chill, performance mindset. He needed to focus if he wanted a good recital, because the show must go on no matter what awful feelings he was feeling inside. Most of this time was spent meditating in a bathroom stall. And by meditating, he meant breathing heavily and trying not to sob.

…

The recital mostly occurred while Georg was in the bathroom, and he came out right before he was supposed to go on. He called that performer’s intuition, but in reality there were speakers in the bathroom and he knew that the kid before him was playing a song from Beetlejuice The Musical and recognized when to leave.

He had sort of wished he had sat in his assigned spot in the house and listened to the other students, but he hadn’t wanted to cause a ruckus in his time of tantrum. At least he was respectful in that sense.

And so, Georg stepped onstage, his sheet music book in hand just as he’d pictured it earlier. He sat at the bench as rehearsed. Most of the younger students would usually wave at the audience before they sat, but Georg had no one to wave to. He sat with a straight face and took a deep breath before beginning.

His song started off gentle and calm, just like his day had. By the end, it was a complex musical dumpster fire, with his hands everywhere and his fingers aching since he hadn’t warmed up nearly enough. Just like his day had ended.

It was some classical piece Georg loved but couldn’t ever pronounce the name to. It was hands down the most complicated piece he had ever learned, and he was so proud that he had finally mastered it. It had taken up the better half of a year, in which he had worked for hours every single day after school until he got calluses in places no one ever wanted calluses in and gave his family headaches beyond belief. He had worked so hard on learning this song that by now it had been committed to memory and the sheet music was only a formality.

Once he was done, he stood up and bowed, then rushed offstage just as quickly as he had gotten on. He didn’t even wait for his applause to finish, he just left.

There was a reception being held after the recital and Georg didn’t want to stay for it. He didn’t have anyone to celebrate his accomplishments with, anyway. Still, he was quite hungry and he wanted to steal some of the sweets that had been brought to share before he trekked home.

He was huddled over the desserts table stuffing cookies into his pocket for the walk home when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Georg simply stepped aside, expecting it to be one of the other students who wanted him out of the way to grab a cookie, but he instead was met with another tap and finally decided to turn towards the source.

When he did, he was faced by a shorter boy who looked to be around Georg’s age with dark hair and intrigued eyes wearing a tucked-in t-shirt that said “ _SAVE THE WHALES!_ ” with a cartoon of one of one printed beneath the words. It was most definitely bought from the children’s section of the store, but the boy was small enough to fit in it.

“I liked that,” he said, and Georg’s heart nearly stopped. Those were his words. He fought the urge to rip back his suit sleeve and check again, because this couldn’t be true.

“What did you say to me?” Georg asked him, his hands shaky.

The boy had signed his words to Georg, so Georg signed back, albeit his words were probably very slurred due to his sudden bout of nerves. He knew how to sign because all of his friends did. He was suddenly really glad that Hanschen had bullied him into learning sign language when he introduced him to his friend group.

The boy seemed to look at Georg questioningly. Maybe he didn’t understand. Georg’s signing wasn’t as advanced as that of everyone else’s he knew and, as previously mentioned, he was quite nervous. Georg repeated the signs again. “What did you say to me?”

The boy shook his head and held out his wrist. The words “What did you say to me?” were written right in the middle.

“No way,” Georg told him. There was no way this was real. Maybe just an elaborate scheme by his friends to make him feel better, they probably just paid some kid to write on his wrist in Sharpie and- Georg didn’t have time to overthink, because he really needed to pay attention to what the boy was signing.

“I’m Otto,” the boy introduced.

“Georg,” Georg said. “You liked that?” He asked, tilting his head as he did whenever he was interested in something. “Liked what, exactly?”

“Your performance,” Otto replied, his eyes lighting up as he did so. He was clearly very excited about talking to Georg. “I couldn’t hear it, obviously,” He paused to laugh a bit and Georg could have cried at how cute it was. “But your expression, your passion...I was invested the whole time. I came to watch my sister, but I was bored out of my mind. You were the only one who seemed to really _care_. The rest were just too invested in not fucking up.”

Georg had momentarily blacked out because of Otto’s giggle, but he came to while Otto mentioned his passion. He simply nodded.

“Yeah, I really like that song,” Georg said, shrugging with a sheepish smile.

“I liked it, too. I like music. When my sister plays, I rest my hands on the speaker of her keyboard and feel the vibrations,” he explained.

Georg got an idea, and he could physically feel the lightbulb popping up over his head. “Would you like to feel my vibrations? I mean- the vibrations of that song I played. I think you’d like it.”

Otto nodded. “I’d like that,” he said, grinning.

Georg supposed this was what a soulmate was: feeling as if you’ve known someone for years even if you've just met them. Melchior’s bullshit essays were right, for once. Being a soulmate didn’t have to be romantic, even if this boy was very cute.

On the way back to the concert hall where the recital had been held, Georg and Otto had more time to chat. Otto mentioned how it was good Georg could sign because otherwise that would have been very awkward. Georg told Otto about all of his friends and explained that he had learned to sign for them, when his best friend had forced him into a group chat with them. Otto said he’d like to get to know Georg better.

And then he sat down at the piano and played for Otto, Otto’s fingers resting on the lid of the piano, smiling contentedly at Georg. By the very end, he gave Georg a little applause.

“That’s much better than my sister does it. She’s seven, though,” Otto told Georg after his encore, laughing just as melodically as he had before.

So Georg played it again. And again and again and again until the two were kicked out of the venue by the custodians at closing time. Each time until then, though, Otto smiled even bigger and applauded even more than he had for the last rendition. After they had been given the boot, the pair walked all around town and talked for hours and hours on end.

After that day (which Georg was sure was the best day of his entire life, even if it had started off terribly) Georg realized was very glad he knew how to play the piano and how to sign, and he was especially glad that the words on his forearm were the most generic fucking words in the whole entire history of the world ever; because all of those things had lead him to Otto, who made him feel like he did when he played the piano.

And Georg liked that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was started a hot sec ago and I just now got around to finishing it, just because I had an idea for a different fic and wanted to finish the one I’d already started before posting that one.
> 
> According to Simon (makeeastergayagain), today is Otto’s birthday, so happy birthday to that little sailor twerp. Here’s his gift. Also sort of a gift for Simon, since it was his birthday a few days ago.
> 
> I just hope the Ottorg fandom approves of this.


End file.
